Then, very awkwardly, he took a stool and placed it at the end of Ann Veronica’s table, and sat down. Peg after peg had gone down his blistered throat, but never had a smile touched his lips, never had his gaze roved inquisitively. He pressed the bloody wrist into her mouth, and she though she could not feel it or 72 control it, she knew she was being made to swallow. " "There is a great art in it, if you did," quoth he.
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